Just One
by uncomplicatedButterFLY
Summary: One year was all I was given. One year to make a difference in this world. One year to experience everything I’ve always wanted. One year to leave my mark. One year to live. Maybe.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: **Sadly I do not own Twilight. Props to SMeyer for giving us great characters to play with.

* * *

**Prologue**

One year was all I was given.

One year to make a difference in this world.

One year to experience everything I've always wanted.

One year to make my mark on the world.

**Chapter One**

Another gloriously wet day in Seattle, another day ticked off the calendar. The lead coloured clouds rolled in and soon my windows were bombarded with torrents of rain drops.

I could practically hear Tahiti calling out to me.

My mom would be knocking on my door any second now.

I groaned and rolled over, staring at the ceiling remembering the days when I would fake sick and just stay at home. I would just sit here in my room and count. Just count. Whether it was how rain drops there on the windows or how many seconds had passed since the last time my mom asked if I wanted chicken noodle soup.

Suddenly she was knocking at my door.

"Honey, I'm going to the store now. Is there anything you want?"

My mother, Esme Ann Cullen. She baked the best triple chocolate chip cookies in the state, was married at 19 to her high school sweetheart, Carlisle Cullen the greatest cardiac thoracic surgeon in the North West of the country, and gave birth to one beautiful, bouncing baby boy. She was also the head of every charity committee in town and was best known for her uncanny ability to throw the best parties. Classic trophy wife and mother with a heart of gold.

Of course it wouldn't always be that way. Even _I_ knew people had their breaking points, I didn't know how much longer she could keep up this facade. I didn't know how much longer I could stand to watch her.

"No, Mom. I'm fine," I said loud enough for her to hear through the door. I didn't feel like getting up just yet, let alone have a conversation with my mother.

I was half expecting her to pop her head in and ask if I wanted to go with her; nothing like a field trip to the supermarket to cure the blues.

Instead I heard her turn around and march down the stairs. Of course my mother didn't actually march down the stairs; it was far too ungraceful a word to describe Esme Cullen.

You know I wasn't always this miserable.

I was once a rational human being with real emotions, including joy. I even had the ability to cry.

Of course physically I probably still had that ability to produce tears but you would need some emotion behind them to achieve a full crying jag. I didn't have any or if I did, I was pretty sure they would only produce a meagre amount, if any.

I began to laugh hysterically. When did my life get so fucked up that I was seriously considering whether or not I could still cry?

For fuck's sake, when did I become so _mediocre_?

My hands automatically reached for my already untidy hair. I tugged at the ends and in my frustration managed to pull out a few strands.

I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. 20 minutes and 1 later, I throw on some half decent clothes. At least they were clean, they _smelled_ cleaned.

Looking for my car keys however presented itself to be quite a problem. I hadn't left the house all week; so I haven't had a reason to drive my baby lately.

Yeah, I was one of those guys who obsessed over their cars. For graduation my parents had gotten me a Vantage. Rose being the automotive goddess that she is had improved the already perfect engine and totally made a machine out of my baby. She was beautiful. The car, I mean but I'm not saying Rose isn't beautiful either. Because trust me even on her worst days she could make Angelina Jolie look like a sick dog. However if Emmett ever heard any guy checking out Rosalie – let's just say they won't ever have the chance to do it ever again.

Just sitting in my car was soothing. It was like nothing and no one else existed; just me and the cool leather against my skin. My own personal bubble. Could life be any sweeter?

The engine began to purr as I backed the car out of the driveway. The smooth vibrations were some the only comforts I had left in life; sort of tragic really, if you thought about it.

The rain had made the roads slick giving the tarmac an almost glossy effect. I could imagine how easily some clown could lose control of their car should they take their eyes off the road for even a millisecond. It was all it would take and before you know it, you've already destroyed a family; killed someone's brother, sister, husband, wife, mother, father, girlfriend, boyfriend, best friend, somebody who means the world to someone else.

I think it's time for my Prozac.

Driving had once been my escape from the craziness of my family. It gave me the option to just get away and calm down before I did or said something I would surely regret later. Eventually I got tired of running away so instead I turned off any emotions and gradually it became permanent.

I take a left turn and park my car. The rain was dying down and was slowly turning into a light spray.

Ashford Park still hadn't changed much since my childhood. It was here where I'd met Jasper, good old Jasper.

To a five year old the sandbox was probably the best invention mankind had ever come up with, I would have to agree with them. It was at the sandbox where I met some of the most important people in life. It was also at the sandbox where I learned some of the most important lessons in life i.e. Girls are mean, don't eat sand covered ice-cream and children really are cruel.

Jasper was the new kid from Texas. He called his mom 'Mama' and had a really funny accent. The other kids wouldn't even talk to him but I did. Of course in having done so I too became an outcast.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

My pocket began to vibrate. I took my phone out and checked the caller ID.

Speaking of the devil, "Dude, where the hell are you? We're all here waiting for you. You said you were coming today. Man, if you don't turn up in like 10 minutes, Alice is gonna friggin hunt you down and drag you here by your balls."

I scowled. She probably would too.

"Isn't that a great way to greet someone, Jasper? Of course most people like to say hello but no, you Southerners like to get to the point," I say coolly. I wanted to piss him off.

The only response I got was a faint growling sound.

"I know, I know I said I was coming but I forgot. I'll drop by in 20. I just have some things to sort through," I say hastily. I didn't want him _that _pissed. He was growling at me fuck's sake.

"You forgot? Seriously man, you said you were coming for sure this time. Alice is going to hack your balls off with an ice pick if you don't turn up."

Again, I really could picture Alice wielding an ice pick and lunging for my manhood.

_Jeez, manhood? _

"Jasper, I said I'd drop by and I will. Just give me time. Good things come to those who wait," I said.

"Who the hell are you? Ghandi? Seriously if you aren't here in like half an hour me and Emmett are gonna drag your sorry ass here and hold you down while Alice hacks off your nuts," Even after all these years of living up in the north, Jasper still managed to hang on to a slight southern drawl, "While Rose makes sure to record every single minute of it."

"Yeah, yeah. See you in 30 cowboy." I heard him chuckle then mutter something about Texan stereotypes and teaching me a lesson.

I turned off my phone and sat on the bench. It was cold and wet but the solitude was appealing. I wasn't running away this time.

Just thinking.

Life could get so complicated that even thinking sometimes became impossible, that your thoughts became so muddled that you can't even remember what happened yesterday.

I had huge respect for my father. He was the best cardio thoracic surgeon in the Pacific North West and Chief of Surgery at Harborview. He had people's lives in his hand every single day. He had the power to save people.

As great as that sounds, it always scared me; to put that much power in another persons' hands. It was like saying "Hey, since you have a degree from Harvard Medical School and look like a pretty alright guy, do you mind playing God just for a few hours while you operate on me, you know make sure I don't die and leave my wife and three kids fatherless and in debt?"

I don't know how my dad managed to _not_ crumple under the weight of the huge responsibility. It also surprised me that he didn't develop a God complex. I always thought it was unfair that people put so much trust into him, not that I thought my dad was untrustworthy, it's just that if he failed it would be his entire fault. I told him this once and all he did was laugh and say 'People know I am not God. They know I am only human and doing my best to save other peoples' lives. They know better than to expect miracles.' I was only 7 when he said this to me. It wouldn't be for some time before I really grasped the concept of what he was saying.

--

Today was a good day for procrastination. Well in my book any day was good for procrastination but today was special. I didn't want to feel rushed into doing anything in particular right now. I just wanted to be.

As much as I loved hanging out with Jasper and everyone else, today I was in the mood for procrastination, not margaritas or cosmopolitans or screaming orgasms, or whatever girly cocktail concoction Alice wanted to shove down our throats. Today was my procrastinating day. I was certainly in no rush to get to Alice's.

Funny thing about procrastination, you can only ever put something off long enough to realize you have a whole list of things you don't necessarily want to do but will eventually have to anyway. Then you realize procrastinating really didn't do you any favours, it just gave you time to think and worry and ultimately do what you were trying to put off.

Whoah.

God, I sound like one those nuts who ramble about the apocalypse.

Whatever, I was procrastinating; better than masturbating as Father Bradley would say. He didn't actually go around saying procrastinating is better than masturbating, that would just be really creepy, he did however do a sermon on masturbation and why it was worst than premarital sex; something to do with having to conjure up pornographic or sexual images in order to please yourself.

My family wasn't extremely religious but we did try to make an appearance at church at least once a month or so. After that sermon however, _my _appearances became fewer and father between. I was fifteen at the time and was going through puberty, not exactly the easiest place to be in life.

I got the lecture at school during health class that masturbation was safer than sex because there's no chance of catching an STD or getting a girl pregnant. Coach Clapp had also rambled on that most teenagers, especially boys, weren't emotionally mature enough to handle a sexual relationship.

I listened to neither of them because eventually my own father gave me the talk and I was suddenly regretting not having listened to Coach Clapp or Father Bradley. And because my dad was a surgeon I had to listen as he recited every gruesome anatomical change that was going to happen or was already happening in my body. Of course it probably wasn't as easy for my dad to be talking about this with me either but was it really necessary to tell me that Barramundi went through their own type of puberty too? He explained how they were always born as males and when they got older became females. I sat in my seat and said nothing and looked at everything but him. I thought my dad had begun secretly prescribing himself with some weird drug. Then as if things couldn't get any worse, and I real thought it couldn't after the transvestite fish story, he straight up asked me if I was still a virgin.

My eyes bugged out of their sockets and I think I went into cardiac arrest. I looked up and saw that my father was still waiting for an answer. Did he honest to god think I'd already begun sleeping around with girls? I gaped at him but managed to shake my head. I thought the worse was finally over. I breathed a sigh of relief, then my dad spoke again.

"Son, you know I would understand if you are no longer a virgin-" he paused, trying to think of a way to get his point across without making a complete asshat out of himself ( a little late for that don't you think?), "I know that times have changed since I was a young man, but I want you to understand that you can to me or your mother about anything."

I wanted this moment to just end. If I had to hear my dad say 'virgin' one more time, I might just shoot him.

"Umm...Thanks Dad but I can safely say that I am a virgin and plan on staying one until I, um – get married? Umm...Or if I find the right girl – who I would have to love or really care about, you know. So, yeah – umm no sex for me."

I don't know how many times I stuttered and said 'umm' in that sentence. The ''no sex for me' bit was like the icing on the most-disastrous-sex-talk-ever-cake. However my dad seemed to believe me or chose to anyway, and left the table. This time I didn't sigh in relief instead I made a mad dash for the front door and ran all the way to Ashford Park, 8 miles away.

That talk was the most embarrassing and emotionally scaring conversation I've had in my life to date. I doubt my father ever told his patients about transvestite fish.

I glanced down at watch and was shocked to see the time. I'd been sitting on the park bench for almost an hour. Alice was definitely going to hack off my balls with an ice pick.

What fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

It had been ages since I'd last hung out with everyone. However I wasn't really in the mood today to be bossed around by Alice, punched by Emmet, made fun of by Jasper or nagged by Rosalie. I really wasn't, but I did say I'd drop by. Now I couldn't break a promise, could I?

The Brandon's lived in the cosmopolitan area of the city and was a little ways away from my neck of the woods. The drive wasn't long but it wasn't exactly short either. The rain had now completely stopped and the sun was beginning to make one of its very rare appearances here in Seattle.

It was a glorious day to get stoned.

Sadly, I was on my way to one of Alice's little cocktail parties. Thankfully however, it was just our group for today, no need to fake happiness in the company of strangers.

I'm not anti-social or anything, I'm just not what you would call the life of the party. I'm the guy that stands in the background and makes fun of all the guys who don't realise how _not _they were. I make cynical comments about girls who have absolutely no self-respect left that they are more than willing to display their privates to drunken frat boys. Oh I also make fun of the couples who might as well be having sex in the middle of the dance floor for all the grinding they were doing.

I hear _Barbie Girl _begin to play and immediately begin to look for my phone. There's only one person I know who's cruel enough to have set that as their ringing tone.

Alice.

_I'm a Barbie Girl in a Barbie World. Life's fantastic !_

What a sick song. Jesus, what is wrong with the world?

I pulled over on the side of the road, deciding that this was probably conversation that would need my full and undivided attention. Handsfree was not an option. I hesitantly picked up my phone and placed it several inches away from my ear. There was no telling how the little pixie would react to my tardiness.

"Edward Anthony Masen Cullen! Where in the name of all that is holy are you? You are 2 hours late and haven't even bothered to call me! What is wrong with you?" she yelled. She only ever used my full name when she was on the verge of committing murder. Mine, to be exact.

It's a freaking miracle that _Jasper_ isn't deaf. Alice sure has one mighty set of lungs on her.

"Allie, just chill. I'll be there in like 10. No need to burst my ear drum babe" I only ever called her Allie when I was in trouble or needed to get out of it. Today it was the latter.

"My name is Alice. Not Allie, babe or sweetheart. And if you don't get your lanky ass here right now, I'm going to shave all of your hair off and sell it on ebay as a mirkin,"

Alice always had a way with her words, but threatening to sell my hair as a genital wig was classic but also scary as hell.

When we were in the ninth grade Alice got her haircut over the summer. Ironically it was called the pixie cut. This kid in our class, Greg Miles, had teased her about it non-stop for three days. On the fourth day something in Alice snapped and when the bell went for period 2 she marched right up to Greg and socked him right in the nuts then whispered something in the poor kids' ear. He paled and stopped crying. It was like he'd seen a ghost. The next day Greg didn't come to school. Apparently he and his whole family had decided that Indiana weather was better suited for them. No one ever found out exactly what she'd told Greg but I'm guessing it must have been pretty damn scary to have made him move states.

"_Alice, _I will be there in 10 minutes. So there will be no need for scissors any other sharp objects, okay? And by the way I never called you sweetheart. Edward Cullen doesn't say shit like that. Who do you think I am, Casanova?" I said.

"Fine," she snapped but I could hear her trying to sound angry. I hung up and continued my drive to her house.

To say that the Brandon Home was eccentric would be the biggest understatement ever. From the hand shaped couches to the cherry red walls, the whole place screamed mental ward to most people but Olivia, (Alice's genius award winning interior designer mother) put it together in a way that made it look more like innovative chic rather than a house of horrors.

Anyways, this place had grown to become like a second home to me. In fact Aunt Olivia –that's what I call Alice's mom. She's not really my aunt but she sure is damn close to it- even decorated a room just for me. Alice's mom and my mom had met at a cafe before we were even born. My mom was 7 months pregnant with me while Aunt Olivia was only 5 months along with Alice. They quickly became best friends and have been that way for the last 17 years. So naturally this meant that Alice and I would become playmates and best friends too.

Instead I became her big brother even though I was only 2 months older. But that didn't matter because I was always-and still am- there for Alice. If someone made her cry I made the bastard bleed. If she got a bad report card I got her a super deluxe sundae. I _was _her big brother for all intents and purposes and that's why I'd felt so bad for being so neglectful of her lately. Apart from school I almost never saw her. I was going to change that.

I walked up to the porch steps and opened the front door. There's no point in knocking, their door is always open.

No pun intended.

I walked into the familiar house and made my way to the living room. I could already hear Emmett's booming laughter and Alice's little-girl giggle. The familiar sounds brought me comfort and joy, something I'd been living without for a while now. I leaned against the wall and waited for them to notice me. It wasn't long before Alice sensed me and tackled me. Her air tight grip on my neck was like one of those chokeholds that wrestlers use. This was just Alice showing affection. She loosened her grip a little and leaned back to look at me. The way her eyes searched my face made me feel like she was looking directly into my soul. Even though Alice is almost always bubbly and playful there were times when she could seriously worry, especially about those she loved. She was worrying right now.

I winked at her and gave her one of my signature lopsided grins. I didn't want her worrying about me right now. I just wanted to have fun and relax with my friends, even if it was only temporary.

"There's something wrong," she said without missing a beat. Alice had this strange almost eerie sense of knowing when something was wrong with me. This was why I had been avoiding her.

"Alice, I know. I'm very sorry I'm late but please forgive me oh gracious and most glorious one," I said jokingly. I didn't need her nagging me right now.

"Edward," she said quite seriously for Alice," you know that's not what I was talking about. What's wrong?"

Alice has this look she gives to people when she knows they're lying. It usually scares people into telling the truth. She got it from Aunt Olivia. I hated lying to her or in this case hiding something from her. Alice is my little sister, I tell her everything but I just couldn't this time, not now anyway. Then she frowned and pouted her lips. I almost told her everything then and there. Almost.

"Alice, I thought I was here to have fun with you guys. Not to be interrogated. What is this Guantanamo Bay?"

Rosalie, Jasper and even Emmett wore similar faces of concern. Did I really look that different? I knew I'd lost some weight and gotten even paler, which was pretty surprising considering I was practically an albino to begin with. But apart from that my symptoms hadn't taken any other toll on my physical appearance.

I set Alice down on the ground and looked straight into her eyes and said "Mary Alice Brandon, I swear on James Dean's grave that I feel perfectly fine and would love nothing more than a double shot of some good Russian vodka right this minute," I said seriously. I had to be careful about how I put my words together.

Her frowned deepened then she gave me her signature 1000 watt grin. All was well again in the land of Alice.

"Vodka? You're such a pansy Edward"

You gotta love Emmett.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

I'd forgotten how much fun we always had together. I was rarely home these days because of my inability to leave my schoolwork. I only ever get to go home for the holidays but this time I was home for the summer and I was going to spend 2 months with my friends and family. This was a luxury I haven't been able to have in 3 years. I was totally pumped.

Even though each of them had a significant other half, I never felt like the third wheel (technically fifth). It was great getting to hang out with my friends again. Alice had gotten so drunk that by the end of the night Jasper had to literally keep her at an arm's distance before she raped him in front of all of us. Alice could very frisky when she's had too many Long Island Iced Teas.

Emmet was making more rude jokes than usual. Too many even for him. One joke was so badly told that I had begun to question his sanity. Emmett was a happy drunk and not even a slap on the head from Rosalie could bring him out of his buzz. But thankfully through mine and Jasper's combined efforts we managed to wrestle the bottle of good old Uncle Jack from his steel grip.

Rosalie was pissed off at Emmet for getting wasted and Jasper was still trying to keep Alice from sucking his face off and dry humping him but all in all it was a great night. Jasper and I had been able to catch up and just talk. Rosalie caught me up on all of the Club's drama like who was dating who and the latest rumors circulating about Mr. Jenkins's ( a middle-aged business man and a member at the board at our old high school) and Miss. Hooper's (his secretary) 'secret relationship'. You couldn't exactly call it secret considering the fact that they eye-fuck each other when they can't do the real thing, and have been caught on more than one occasion get steamy in his Ferrari. I was surprised they didn't just come out with. But hey, who am I to judge? Maybe they get off trying to hide their romantic escapades. Whatever floats their boats, I guess.

I went home right around the time that Emmett thought it would be cool to start stripping for Rosalie. The sickest part was that no one except Jasper tried to stop him. Apparently a strip tease was all it took Emmett to be forgiven. And Alice, well she was in the land of the faeries. Nothing could kill her buzz. Not even the sight of Emmett tripping over his own pants in his haste to remove them. Thank god Emmett was a boxer-shorts man. I kind of felt guilty for abandoning Jasper in his time of need but there was no way in hell that I was sticking around to see Emmet _out _of his boxers. Not even Jasper's years of good service as a friend was enough to make me stay. So with that I said _Adios _and called it night.

--

I'd made sure not to drink too much because I'd decided that I was going to spend the night in my own bed at home and not passed out next to Alice who might get me and Jasper confused and try to rape me in her drunken haze. A few months ago I probably would have stuck around to take humiliating photos of Emmet and post them on Facebook or maybe just stuck around to make sure that Jasper didn't get harassed by his horny girlfriend. Though it would have been fun to see 4"11 Alice take on Jasper who stood at a proud 6"3. I would have rooted for Alice.

I think back to poor old Greg and wonder whatever happened to him.

In barely any time at all I'm parking my car in the garage. I walk into the house and find that the TV is still on in the family room downstairs. I go in to check – my dad has a bad habit of forgetting to turn off the TV before going to bed – and I'm surprised to find my mom watching old videos of me. She smiles at me and pats the place next to her on the sofa. I sit down and watch myself at the age of 12 at a swim meet. I remember coming first for my age division. I also remember my mom coming into the change room right after to congratulate me. That was probably the second most embarrassing experience of my life; only second to my dad's sex talk.

"Edward do you remember when you used to get so nervous before your swim meets that you'd literally make yourself sick?" she asked.

Oh yeah, that was one of the reasons I'd decided to quit the swim team. My nerves could never really handle the anticipation mixed with nervousness.

"Yeah, I almost forgot. Thanks for reminding me mom;" I grin at her, "Swim meets are very stressful you know, especially to 12 year old boys." I told her jokingly.

She smiles at me. But she also looks a little sad. I didn't like to see my mom sad. No one likes to see their mom's sad. And if you do, well you're a sick person. I didn't know what could make her so sad so quickly.

"Mom, what's wrong?" I asked her. I also hoped she couldn't smell the alcohol on my breath. Even though I was over the legal drinking age – I still found it weird to be intoxicated around her or my dad.

"Nothing, sweetie. I was just thinking. I miss being busy you know. Since you've left there's been nothing here for me to do."

I was stumped. I would have thought that my mom would have enjoyed my absence even if just a little bit. I guess I was wrong.

"What? I thought you be sort of relieved not to have to worry about me anymore," I say.

"Of course not. Now I worry even more because I'm all the way on the other side of the country. I can't look after you while you're Massachusetts now can I?"

When I got my acceptance letter from Harvard my dad was over the moon that I was going to his Alma mater. My mom on the other hand wasn't exactly jumping for joy that I'd gotten into one of the most prestigious schools in the world. The downside was that it also happened to be on the other side of the country.

She was so worried about who was going to take care of me and who would be providing me with food. So the next day she decided that there was no way in hell I was going to move into the freshman dorms and have a normal college experience but instead until she deemed me fit to take care of myself, I would have Mrs. Hayweather doing the job for me.

She's like my very own personal Mary Poppins. Except she doesn't use umbrellas as a form of transportation and she doesn't sing everything she wants to say and she doesn't say but she does make a mean apple pie. With extra sugar on the crust so it had like this crunch to it. And the sauce inside….let's just say her apple pies are like sex on a fork. Fucking awesome. Anyway, what was I saying before my apple pie orgasm? Oh yeah, Harvard.

So for the past 3 years I've been living in Cambridge working towards earning a place at Harvard Medical School. My head has been filled with nothing but Science. I've been taking courses in Chemistry, Physics, Biology and Organic Chemistry. And on top of that I've also been volunteering at hospitals and sucking up to all my teachers in the hope that they write me a good recommendation when the time comes. My dad also thought that being a PBK would look good on my transcript so again I poured all my blood and sweat into my work until finally I was inducted and became an official member of the PBK society. Did you know Barack Obama Sr. was also a PBK member? So was my dad, but the President's father is a far more interesting character than mine.

Of course I told my dad that I wouldn't need to suck up to so many people if he'd just buy them all a condo in Florida. You know, for their retirement. Instead my dad just looked at me like I'd grown an extra nose. I was totally joking of course.

Then at the beginning of this year, my junior year, I sat for the MCATS, began filling out thousands of forms and in the process killing about 7 trees in the hope that through my all my hard work and maybe even some of God's mercy that I get into HMS.

After having filled out more application forms than imaginable, I also had to wait almost two months to be told that I would have to turn in a _secondary application_! They also expected me to answer essay questions about my dedication to medicine, stressful situations and past leadership experiences.

How much more dedicated could I possibly get?

What the fuck did they want me to do? Buy Beth Israel? Anyway so after I answered all the essay questions, they send me a letter inviting me for an interview.

That doesn't even mean that you're an automatic shoe in. It just means that they've decided you might actually be worth their time.

My dad never mentioned just how much Harvard _didn't _want you to become a doctor. They practically make it impossible for even the smartest people to get in. The forms are enough to drive away even the most dedicated and conscientious students.

So after the interviews they send out more letters that roughly say when you're going to get _another _letter. Thankfully however this time it'll either be an acceptance or rejection letter.

I think my parents were actually surprised that I'd stuck by my promise to follow in my dad's footsteps. In fact I think everyone was surprised. I wasn't exactly known for my persistence in my studies.

Throughout high school on every report, many if not all my teachers at some point or other noted that "Edward is a brilliant and capable student, who has the ability to accomplish anything he sets his mind to. However due to his lack of concentration and motivation he is easily distracted and is side-tracked." In other words, I was smart but had the attention span of a gold fish and the enthusiasm of a sloth.

However to some people's shock, three weeks after the interview I received a letter from_ Harvard Medical School _stating that I had been accepted and was to begin in the next semester. They also sent _another _form to outline which track I would choose towards earning the M.D degree. This was a form I was more than happy sign.

I filled up the form sent it back then rang my dad to tell him the news. He was driving home from work and actually had to pullover when I told him. Next I rang my mom. She was in the middle of her grocery shopping and actually gave a little yelp when I told her about my acceptance letter.

That was a pretty good day.

"Edward, are you staying down here or are you going off to bed too?" My mom asked from the doorway.

I hadn't realized how much time had passed. I shook my head a little. I was feeling a bit drained and decided to go off to bed too.

"Yeah, mom. Good Night."

As I slowly walked up the stairs I roughly calculated that throughout this whole crazy application process, I had been the cause of death to at least 9 trees.


End file.
